Sivut

June 6, 2007

ANONYMOUS SIDE OF THE STORY

Yes, I feel bad about myself. Yes, I cry a lot. Yes, I suck at school. Yes, I'm an outcast. Yes, I've cut. But not for once, have I done or felt any of those things because of music.

As a young kid, I was okay. My parents were happy for a couple of years and I was happy. We lived in Finland, and at times in Greece 'cause my dad's greek. My dad and mom got divorced and I moved to Finland with my mom, went to kindergarden and got some friends. It was all good until I grew up at the age of realizing anything. Realizing that life is shitty and kicks you around.

Like I said, I got my first real friends from kindergarden. It was us against the world. We were like the f**k Powerpuff Girls. Or whatever comes to mind. We went to the first grade at school and suddenly it wasn't us against the world anymore. It was them against me. I tried to be tough tried to make new friends, pushing myself to other kids. By couple of years, I had become an outcast kid, who was always picked last to groups or teams by classmates.

I flew to Greece from time to time to see my dad. He felt bad for not keeping contact, a guess. He was always bribing me with stuff. Through years my dad started to lose her touch with me, he stopped calling, or whenever he did, he just shouted at me about me not keeping contact with him. He was doing drugs with time to time and he was in jail I think. He never really grew up.

Then I met this girl, still no names. She became my best friend, best one ever. We were like Winnie The Pooh and Piglet. Or whatever comes to mind, f**k the metaphors. We were with each other everyday. Everyday, without any exceptions. She lived with her dad, who was an alcoholic and assaulting her. Really, really bad. He got furious for stupid things and could attack even when I was visiting her. Couple of times he even did, strangled my best friend and banged her head against the wall, me standing next to them, being too shocked and scared to do anything else but stare and cry.

So there were nights with me watching my best friends dad beating the shit out of my best friend. Then there were nights with my best friends dad spending the whole night in the bar drinking and coming home drunk. He did the most crazy things when he was drunk. Sometimes he came home with having scalds all over his arm. Sometimes he was so drunk, he stepped on a wire-plug, with it going straight through her foot and my best friend having to pull it out. Once he picked an axe from home and appeared to the park we were with our "friends", threatening them and us.

My best friend's mom didn't want to take her live with her but she didn't want her to go to an orphanage either. So she had to stay home and I had to keep her alive. The nights with her dad not being home always ended up with me holding on to her, crying and yelling not to run under a car or ending her life on some other way. At that point it wasn't working. I didn't have time to make new friends or to do my school-work. I was getting melancholy and I didn't know what to do. I did tell my best friend, 'cause I thought that from all the persons in the whole wide world she'd understand better than anyone else but she didn't. She underestimated my feelings and mocked and yelled me for saying anything about my problems when her problems were so much bigger.

I started to write stories and poetry and kind of live inside my head, shutting away from the rest of the world. An instead-depression and mid-level-depression were established. Mom cried like a river and I didn't want to say anything. I got regular times from a therapist and I wasn't able to skip the sessions because of mom looking so hard after me. The sessions made me more low since I didn't think I had issues and I wasn't able to talk about anything, I hated my therapist.

About the same time, I was standing up for my free time and own opinions and my best friend didn't like it. She was so used to having her will come true and me believing in her opinions and doing what she wants, that we got in to a huge fight and ended up losing each other. I would've never thought it have leaded to where it did. At the school hallways she was always looking me scornfully and kept pushing me against the wall whenever she passed by me. I felt really guilty for losing her and got more and more anxious. I still kept hearing from her, she got in to mixing pills and alcohol and soon after that she was dragged to stomachclearing and was sended to orphanage to the other side of the country. At the end we ended up with good terms.

I was alone. I couldn't talk to my mother 'cause I didn't want to upset her more. As I felt I was alone, I started to cut. Luckily enough, I found a band and started to tour with them. Not with them you know, but anyway. I got excited about life after a long time and I wasn't so unenthusiastic anymore.

Then I fell in love. There isn't any other as frustrated feeling in the world, as the feeling when you give your heart and soul to someone and never get them back because the person you gave them to doesn't even realise you have given them to him. Love is the thing that makes you fall apart and makes you melancholy and love is the thing that saves lives makes you feel the happiest. It's like a f**k rollercoaster. And I couldn't deal with it.

Then comes the part you're waiting for. I truly found My Chemical Romance. I really started to listen to them and what they had to say and suddenly I had a purpose. I was the life they had to save. I realised everything. Life sucks, it kicks you in the head big time and it doesn't feel good. But you know what? Life isn't sweet. Life isn't dancing throw years. Life isn't all the happy things and balloons. Life just isn't. It's all just life. I have to f**k fight against it. Make the world a better place. Help others and make something meanful for me and others. I have every right to be in this world even if life is sometimes telling me I don't. I learned to canalize my feelings through music, writing and art. Which felt much better than cutting my wrists or mixing alcohol and pills whenever feeling melancholy.

Still, down and down I fell, losing my touch with life again. The compulsory nine years for school was about to end. The neighbourhood I lived in, turned in to total mess. There was suddenly so many fights in our school. Not only with fists, but with knifes and scissors. That made me fear a lot of things and I started to have slight panic attacks. Now you think that's it. No hope. No love. No glory. No happy ending. Bummer. Well, life is shitty.

On December 6th, mom got a phonecall and bursted to tears to the kitchen-floor. Dad died in a car accident. Two cars collided. My dad was in the other car. Because of the rainy weather took my dads car on the wrong lane he died. The driver and the passenger in the other car are okay and made it. My dad didn't. He just..died.

There was so much left unsaid. I felt so quilty for not keeping in touch with my dad. Why couldn't I just be there or why did dad have to get in that car? Every time I have done something remarkable in my life, I have thought "when I'll meet my dad again, he will be so proud of me." But he isn't. Because he won't. Ever.

He never said "Happy birthday!" or "Merry Christmas", but did I ever call him on father's day? No, I didn't. Mom said "call him" and I answered "I don't want to." I don't want to. And now I would do anything if I could have just one phone-call with him. If I could just call him and say "sorry for being a bad daughter", but I can't. It's not my choice anymore. I never gave us a chance.

Value the things that you have and the people you have. You can never, ever know when it's too late and then you will regret those bad things you have said, or the good things you haven't done. Next time you notice you are going to say something bad, think again. Think if that person would not be here in the next day and you couldn't fix it.

After dad passed away I got more melancholy. He left me a huge debt and as an only child, I was the one to pay. I didn't even have the money to go to my own dad's funeral. Gratefuly, my grandfather (from moms side) hired us a lawyer who sorted things out and I didn't have to pay.

I was never pleased with how I looked. Too fat. Too ugly. I started to try lose some wight but couldn't do it. I started to try to throw up but I couldn't do that either. I just sucked in everything I tried.

My friends changed. My family changed. My school changed. I changed. About everything around me changed excpect for My Chemical Romance. The pattern never changes, I'm going to f**k rise against. I'm not okay but maybe I don't even have to be. I'm not correct but I have the right to be confused.

Because of My Chemical Romance, inside of me burst in to flames this small feeling that screams "Here I am and f**k you if you don't understand me." I have started to have own opinions and own way of doing things. I'm tired of hearing how I just can't have that much make up in my face or how I just can't listen underOATH unless feeling annoyed. I can put as much make up in my face as I want and listen to underOATH when the f**k I want, it's my face and this is my life and I'm going to live it.

Actually yes, I am afraid to keep on living and yes, most definitely I am afraid to walk this world alone but you know what? Whatever happens I am not going to be alone. I will always find music next to me. It doesn't betray me and it doesn't judge or critisize me. I grow and change and love and hate but it stays beside me. It's something I don't have to dress up for. It's there for me no matter what I look like.

Yes. I still think life is shitty. But because of music, I'm going to live it anyway.